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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23515219">Drive</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pas_Cal/pseuds/Pas_Cal'>Pas_Cal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gallantry of Gilbert [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Analysis, M/M, Nationverse, Romantic Fluff, Sentimental, Short One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:52:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23515219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pas_Cal/pseuds/Pas_Cal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple drive is sometimes all one needs - even if the car driving you breaks down.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Canada/Prussia (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gallantry of Gilbert [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/731415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Drive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This sucker has been sitting in my notes for probably a solid two years now. I figured it was time to dust it off and publish.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It's September, and the weather is perfect. It's deemed perfect enough, even, for a small road trip. So they pack up enough things for the next few days and pile into Matthew's truck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a Chevy truck with faded red paint and it's so old it has a cassette player and hand crank windows. The radio leaves much to be desired, but it works well enough to blast a ages old mix tape that they had found in the glove box. Matthew knows each song word for word and sends Gilbert into a fit of cackles every time he tries to hit the high notes and misses spectacularly. Gilbert isn't much of a singer himself. He's more of the music maker than a vocalist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the windows down as far as they can get them, the crisp air whips inside and roars in their ears alongside the engine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, until it breaks down in the middle of nowhere next to a wheat field. So they</span>
  <span> wait for the engine to cool off and Gil has a go at it with what tools they find in the rusted tool box hiding in the back of the truck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a gentle breeze and not a cloud in the sky. The wheat rolls in waves like a golden sea and Matt watches as Gil tinkers under the hood, his sweater pulled off and tied around his waist, sunglasses perched atop his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers are long and nimble and work like they've handled that engine a million times; like he knows each piece by heart even though it's the first he's even been in that truck </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matthew likes watching him work, seeing how focused Gilbert gets when he's occupied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's quiet, but his lips move as if he's talking to himself under his breath. When he gets stuck and frustrated, the tip of his tongue sticks out of the corner of his lips as he tries to figure out the problem at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's handsome, Matthew thinks, and looks far too good with car grease smudged on his cheek and hands </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They come to the conclusion that the truck is done for. It has made its last drive, but Matthew's okay with that. He's had it for decades and pushed it far past it's limits. It had a good run. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they grab their bags and start walking because there's no service and it's miles to the next gas station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Along the way, they hitch a ride with a local farmer to the next town and enjoy a lengthy conversation about old cars and the newer sleeker models on the market.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Gilbert does, mostly. Matthew just listens because he's not a fanatic like the two in the front seat seem to be. It's nice to see Gilbert grinning and gesticulating wildly; mimicking different parts as best one can with the human hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually they bid their driver farewell and take to the streets of the town they've been dropped in. They find a used car lot and split up to find a suitable chariot to get them back home. Matthew looks for something practical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gilbert comes back with a motorcycle instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh no." Matthew says flatly. "No way." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Gilbert just grins wickedly and holds up the keys. He's already bought it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stop inside a thrift shop to get more appropriate jackets so the wind doesn't cut right through them. They gas up the tank, and onward they go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gilbert drives while Matt takes the passenger seat hugged up behind him.</span>
</p><p><span>It's loud, just as Matthew expects, and fast.</span> Gilbert handles it like a pro and Matthew can't help but wonder what Gil looked like trying a motorcycle for the first time. He likes to think there was more than one failed attempt at keeping the bike upright and perhaps a few injuries; but he knows Gilbert takes to machines like a duck to water. He can pick them apart and put them back together on the first try and Matthew has a hard time understanding how someone from the medieval times is able to transition so fluidly through the exploding age of engineering. </p><p>It's a stubborn desire to <em>know </em>things and lots of practice. Gilbert has many talents, Matthew reminds himself. Some as simple as knitting and others as complex as computer coding. He's no expert in either, but with all the free time he's had over his centuries old life, he's had ample time to learn quite a lot. It makes Matthew a little jealous, but impressed and proud all the same.</p><p>Eventually they stop after a few hours of driving for a break to eat. They chow down on fast food French fries and burgers, propped against the bike in the mostly empty parking lot.</p><p>
  <span>It's evening then and the sun is setting. </span>
  <span>The land is still flat farmland with little to no trees or buildings to interrupt the view, and they get a perfect picture of the sunset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matthew likes the way it looks on Gilbert; how it colors his hair golden and reflects in his ruby eyes making him look royal and ethereal. His red gaze looks ablaze. Alive. </span>
  <span>The leather jacket suits him a little too well, Matthew thinks, as does the wind mussed hair sticking up in all directions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Gilbert says around a straw, sucking down the last bits of coke as he catches Matt staring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Matt just smiles, and waits for Gilbert to lower his drink before tugging at the collar of his too good jacket to kiss at his too salty lips. It tastes like French fries and burgers, but neither of them really mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just thinking about how lucky I am," Matthew finally answers when he pulls away. He delights in the pink flush spreading across Gilbert's cheeks clear up to his ears and the way he pretends to be irritated when really he's just embarrassed. He elbows Matthew in the ribs, drawing out a laugh that echoes in the cool evening air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, he loves him; and he tells him such and watches as Gil goes scarlet. Watches how he turns sheepish but smiles despite himself, flattered. Touched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Proud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't say it back, but he doesn't have to. He shows it in other ways: with the squeeze of a hand, ruffle of his hair, and so many other ways. Ways that make him feel warm and giddy and perhaps a little too much like the teenager he is-physically, anyway. Aging was such a different and curiously complicated thing with their kind.</span>
</p><p>But the fact remains that Gilbert is older despite how rarely he acts his age.</p><p>
  <span>"Lets go get a room," Matt suggests. "I think we deserve a bed tonight." Gil lets out a short laugh, head tossing back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You said it!" Gilbert grins and elbows Matthew again. "I got dibs on the shower." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, come on!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm covered in the guts of your car, Mattie. I get the shower first." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...fair enough." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they climb back on the bike after tossing their empty cups and burger wrappers. Matthew wraps his arms around Gilbert, chin propped on his shoulder. The engine revs loudly and they pull back out on the road, driving off into the night.</span>
</p>
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